


Bite the Hand

by Cryptkin



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Aftercare, Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Fingering, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spanking, Trans Male Character, Trans Nezu | Piers (Pokemon), Trans Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26661469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryptkin/pseuds/Cryptkin
Summary: “How’s something so filthy come out of a pretty mouth like yours?”Piers tries to quip back sarcastically, but pressing fingers hold down his tongue and choke the words away. He can only reply with a muffled groan as Raihan dug nails into his jaw, forcing him to open up just that much wider. How did he get in such a compromising position?
Relationships: Kibana | Raihan/Nezu | Piers
Comments: 3
Kudos: 99





	Bite the Hand

**Author's Note:**

> kicks leg up this is a partner fic to Bad Dog, No Biscuit but they can be read in either order or as a standalone. Therefore: Trans sex ahoy, much more explicit this time.

The cool mist of Hammerlocke’s fog chills Piers to his core, and he pulls his scarf that much tighter to his neck for what little comfort it could offer. He never was used to being  _ out _ , as opposed to the insulating and cagey dome that covered Spikemuth, and it being late hours didn’t help. He’s out of place.

He looks over his shoulder, a guilty glance backwards to make sure he isn’t followed before descending the metal stairs below. The walk is quiet save for the click of metal heel against metal step, and Piers makes a note to wear something softer in the future.

Rounding a corner past some pipes, Piers catches the jacket of somebody disappearing down an alley, and he hastens his pace to close the distance. This wasn’t illegal, he tells himself to quell the anxious knot in his gut, but he did know how frowned upon it was in modern society. 

The seedy, buried history of Hammerlocke’s night life was a strange familiarity to Piers and as he checks into the club, he wonders why he bothers to make the trip all the way out here. Jacket, Pokémon and electronics discarded to the cloakroom, Piers continues his descent into a dark basement and pushes through a throng of people to watch the event.

Normally, he would bet or even join the fights, but Marnie’s chiding had gotten to him first and he was made to promise not to get into trouble. Piers pushes the fringe from his eyes and leans over the fence to see the action below him.

The cloying atmosphere of the fight club and deafening cheers when anyone got a hit in on the other makes Piers dizzy with excitement. He wouldn’t admit it in public lest it negatively affected Marnie, but this was a rush of adrenaline that he needed. Piers was, if anything, a thrill seeker in the worst ways. It wasn’t unusual for him to peel himself up off the bathroom floor after a particularly wild bender with the mates, only minutes before Marnie was up for school. Over breakfast he’d pretend nothing interesting happened the night before and she would give him a quiet but scrutinizing look and mention he’d need to ice his bruises and bandage his knuckles or they’d look worse in a few hours. Wash, rinse, repeat. Sometimes it was fights. Sometimes it was wild drinking. Usually it was both.

Tonight he would be good.

It didn’t take long before Piers is screaming alongside the drunken and belligerent patrons of the club, demanding blood, his voice going hoarse and heart wildly beating along to the low bass of the music. He isn’t drunk but he absolutely felt it, and nearly lost his inhibition to the atmosphere, nearly said “fuck it” and threw his hat into the ring, before a hand pulled him back by the shoulder.

“Geroff, mate, I wanna— Raihan?” Piers is greeted with a tall, gangly-limbed dragon trainer and he has to process why he of all people would be in this sort of scene. “What are you doing here? This doesn’t feel like your kind of usual haunt.”

Raihan just smiles. “Oh, it’s not,” he said, pulling Piers by the wrist away from the ring’s barrier, “but Marnie said you’d be here and to make sure you weren’t doing anything stupid.” A pause. “Her words, not mine.”

“Right. Well I’m not, so sod off.” Piers’ mood is soured just by the fact his baby sister had someone check up on him, never mind the fact it was Raihan of all people. Though, this being his city, and her new status as a gym leader, it did make sense that they kept in touch. Still, he glowers as Raihan gently tugs Piers further away from the fray.

“Well, she was right about you being here,” Raihan rationalizes, “and you were pretty shirty about it with me, so something’s telling me she had a reason to ask me to check on you.”

Piers has a moment of guilt. Marnie was worried about him, after all, and he was moments away from breaking her trust. He doesn’t say anything, but the lack of resistance in his arm makes Raihan leading him to a table an easier task.

Even among the noise of the crowd there’s a heavy silence that hung between the two. Piers seems unwilling to make eye contact, whether out of embarrassment of the situation, or frustration at Raihan for pulling him out of his trance. Raihan is on the opposite end, trying to find the right combination of words that wouldn’t end up with a punch in the arm or worse.

“So…”

Piers looks up finally, fidgeting with the ring of his choker to distract himself. “So?” He repeats, waiting for Raihan to finish his thought.

“...So you come here often?” Oh, no, Piers is looking at Raihan like he just asked a bad pickup line and maybe he did but he didn’t  _ mean _ it like that he just— “I mean to this club. I’m surprised you’ve heard of it.”

“Word gets around.”

“Right. Hey, listen, it’s pretty late and I don’t expect you to have had a plan beyond coming here, right? Were you just going to get a hotel room?” Raihan asks with such a serious expression Piers suddenly feels like it wasn’t Marnie who wanted to keep tabs on him.

He doesn’t deign to answer the question, focusing his gaze past Raihan instead. It’s true, Piers didn’t have a plan beyond the fun he had. He always made it home eventually. This would be no different, of course, and he thinned his mouth in a frown.

“Hey.” Raihan’s concern drops to annoyance and he tries to put his hand on Piers’, but Piers pulls away. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

Piers ignores it.

Fed up with the dismissive attitude, Raihan reaches over and grips both of Piers’ shoulders enough to bruise. Piers winces, finally giving Raihan what he wants and looks him in the eye. Raihan speaks low in a cold anger.

“Come home with me.” It is not a request.

Piers works his jaw mechanically, both startled and impressed by Raihan’s demand. He wants to push him further, and rather than comply, he asks, “An’ if I don’t?”

Wordlessly Raihan stands up from his chair and rounds to the back of Piers, still keeping a firm hand on one of his shoulders. He leans down, mouth on the shell of Piers’ ear, speaking so low and husky that it causes shivers. “You don’t have much of a choice right now.”

“Ah…” Piers sounds as if he’s contemplating the threat, but already he’s standing up and pushing in his chair to leave. Raihan lets go of his arm but keeps suffocatingly close.

They both collect their belongings and head up the stairs back to the cool night air, but Raihan drags Piers into a secluded cove between a building and construction materials instead of onto the main road. He only has a moment to think before Raihan digs nails into Piers’ hips, pushes him against the wall and pins him. Piers can only seethe as he searches for purchase against the brick when he’s ravaged with hickies, heavy petting, and the rumble of Raihan’s chest against his. He finds no respite against the assault and can only wrap his arms uselessly around Raihan’s neck just to keep himself from slipping.

“Eager dog,” Piers mumbles, but Raihan takes him by the mouth in a hungry, desperate kiss and silences the waspish retorts. He matches the fervor, fingers tangling in dreads and trying to tug Raihan’s head back for any sort of gain. Raihan only digs his fingers in deeper to Piers’ hip in response, enough to bruise.

“You’re out of your element here.” Raihan runs a hand between Piers’ thighs, palms him. Piers’ breath catches in his throat in a gasp and Raihan smiles at the noises made when he kneads against the other. “Come home with me,” he says again, accented with kisses peppered along Piers’ jaw.

Between labored breaths and kisses of his own, Piers manages to reply. “You make a compellin’ argument, but I’m not convinced.” Raihan in response pulls the waistband of Piers’ pants just low enough to lightly grind fingers against his exposed cunt.

“Tha’s better.” 

* * *

The pair barely made it two steps into the house before Raihan was back to assaulting Piers with heavy touches. This time, Piers rolls into the movements, shimmying first out of his jacket, then his scarf discarded on the floor, and Raihan pushes him to the couch in the living room, clawing down his torso from under the ratty shirt he was wearing. Piers could only let it happen, helpless to the thrill of it.

“What were you really doing there?” Raihan leaves a nasty bite to Piers’ throat in possession, watching with glee as heat rises to his partner’s cheeks and flushes his body a subtle glow of pink.

“Th’ fuck’s it matter,” Piers slurs, attempting to tug Raihan out of his own clothes in fairness, but Raihan stops him.

“I’m curious.”

“Killed the cat, mate.”

Raihan pulls himself up into a sitting position and shakes his head no. “Satisfaction brought it back.”

Piers, still on his back staring up at the dragon tamer, bares his teeth in an unfriendly smile. “I’m not interested in airin’ out my dirty laundry. You want anythin’ out of me you’re goin’ t’have to wrest it from me.”

Raihan seems to contemplate that earnestly, expression relaxing to that soft, familiar gaze. “If I go too far?” he asks.

“If y-- fuck, Rai, I’m not some twee china on your nan’s shelf,” Piers laughs in disbelief, now sitting up to cup Raihan’s cheeks in what he considered a nurturing gesture. “If it’ll calm you down we can use safe words or somethin’. Fair?”

Raihan laughs as well, a rumbling low in his chest that made Piers second guess his relationship with the man.

“Fair, fair. Traffic lights are easiest to remember.” He’s already on Piers again in possessive kisses before anything was really agreed to, but Piers doesn’t mind. Raihan could do what he wanted and Piers probably wouldn’t object. Probably.

He hisses when Raihan dips his head to mouth along the sweep of bone that was his collar, feeling teeth just barely brush against his skin. Piers can do little more than twist away from the sensation, and Raihan holds him in place.

“Fuck me, are you lookin’ to nosh on me or is this some kind of game? Careful with those gnashers, you’ll bleed me out if you aren’t careful.”

Raihan regards the demand briefly. “You want me to stop?” he asks, with zero intent to follow through. He leaves a bruising mark against pale skin for emphasis. Piers only cries out with curses. Raihan has Piers underneath him, arms pulled above his head and out of the way, and he’s straddling the other’s legs to lock him in place. Piers can’t do anything of the sort in this position. All he can do is bark threats, and he was very good at that.

“I’ll sock you if you don’t.” It’s an empty threat. “Great beast that you are, all you do is take what you want, don’t you? No concept of gentleness I bet, never had been refused in your life.” Body betrays him as Piers grinds his hips upwards though, trying to close what little distance was between them.

Raihan snorts and scoots off of Piers’ legs, pulling him up by the arm and over his lap. Hands once above his head now were pressed behind his back and Piers squirms at the discomfort.

“Gentle is how I treat you, despite your nature. You act so callous, like a bratty imp. Is that what you are, if I’m a beast?” Piers didn’t like where this line of questioning was going, in the position he was in. He wiggled his hips in protest, and Raihan took it as an invitation. The smack laid across his ass was only dulled by the thin fabric of Piers’ pants in between. He bit his lip to not cry out from shock.

“Fuckin’ tosser!” Piers insults as he tries to get out of Raihan’s grip again. The disobedience lands him another slap, harder and with intent. His pants are pulled down to his thighs, exposing the faintest of handprints. “‘Gentle’ my pretty pink arse. You’re about as gentle as I am holy.” Of course this earns a third smack, and now on bare skin Piers can no longer hold back a yelp.

Raihan lets go of Piers’ hands, fingers trailing across his cheek and forcing his mouth open. He explores Pier’s mouth with little concern for the comfort of the other.

“How’s something so filthy come out of a pretty mouth like yours?”

Piers tries to quip back sarcastically, but pressing fingers hold down his tongue and choke the words away. He can only reply with a muffled groan as Raihan dug nails into his jaw, forcing him to open up just that much wider. How did he get in such a compromising position?

Raihan’s free arm puts pressure against the small of Piers’ back, forcing him to arch painfully. His gaze met with that sardonic, too-knowing smile and hooded eyes that Piers knew well was a calm before the storm. He wasn’t going to give Raihan any sort of satisfaction from withering under the look no matter the circumstance. Not in battle, and especially not now.

He gags considerably when Raihan pushes deep enough to touch the back of his throat, and Raihan pulls away. “Are you okay? You aren’t hurt, right?” The concern, though touching, ruins the immersion and Piers heaves his shoulders in a sigh.

“If I wanted you to stop I’d tell you.” He props himself up just far enough to caress Raihan’s cheek. “It’s fine. We have safety words for a reason, right? What color?”

Raihan pauses for a beat, answering only when he feels confident: “Green.”

“Atta boy. Now choke me like you hate me.”

* * *

Piers has become more pliant under the probing of Raihan’s fingers. Eyes glazed over with lust, he whines when Raihan pulls his hand away, mouth still hung open and begging for it to be violated again.

Raihan gives in and pulls Piers into his lap, pulling away the trousers hung uselessly around his leg. The shirt is next, and now Piers is bare to the elements. He’s already a mess, but the flush of his skin burning hot and seeing how his thighs were soaked from his slickened sex give him goosebumps. The anticipation is  _ excruciating _ .

He’s held up by the throat, legs spread and body on display in front of a cheval mirror across from them. Raihan is whispering praises into his ear, but Piers hears nothing over the fog in his brain. 

“Be good,” Raihan says with hot breath and it sends an electrifying shiver down Piers’ spine. “Be good for me, don’t give me trouble anymore.” A hand snakes down between his thighs and Piers attempts to clamp his legs shut; Raihan reprimands him with a smack, just painful enough to remind him to behave.

“What’d I say, hm?” Raihan circles his finger so lightly and sweetly against Piers’ dick, achingly gentle and Piers wants to rut against the teasing hand. Please, please, please—

“Please.” It’s barely above a whisper, needy and wanton. “Please, Rai, I need it.”

Raihan puts pressure on Piers’ throat at the plea, pulling the man up far enough to get to his own pants. Raihan’s cock is freed from the suffocating confines of the fabric, but he doesn’t do much more than idly frot against the other. Piers curses under his breath at the teasing. This wasn’t enough. It’d never be enough.

“Need what?” Raihan stops all motion and Piers keens at the lack of touch.

“Raihan! Fuck, I need you to fuck me,” he pleads, sounding entirely undone. Were he not lovedrunk, Piers would probably find disgust in himself for sounding so needy, but Raihan knew him well enough to be able to push all the right buttons.

“Good boy,” Raihan rasps, giving Piers what he wants, and presses the head of his cock to the folds of Piers’ cunt. He’s not even a quarter of the way in, but that rasp alone makes Piers cum with a strangled sound of pleasure. “Oh?” Raihan muses, “Couldn’t wait?”

Piers’ thighs quiver as Raihan hilts him all at once. He’s so full, and the overstimulation has him babble a string of curses and praises all at once. The feeling fades to only a small skitter of pleasure, and Piers rocks his hips against Raihan.

“You should feel so lucky,” he tries to quip, but his voice is just as shaky as the rest of him. Raihan is content to watch them in the mirror as Piers does the work; doesn’t want to overdo it, but this seems to annoy Piers. He makes Raihan wrap one of his arms around his waist and puts the other between their legs before continuing that slow roll of hip on hip. 

Raihan didn’t need to be told twice. He stills Piers and fucks into him like he was just a toy, and Piers  _ loves it _ . His words start out low and few, but soon pick up into incoherent cries and noisy moans and Raihan bites Piers’ shoulder when Piers cums around his dick again. “ _ Fuck _ ,” he whispers.

By the third orgasm Raihan can’t hold back anymore and Piers all at once feels himself stretched and overflowing with seed. They stay like that for a moment, Piers listless in Raihan’s arms and Raihan’s chest puffing out with labored breaths.

Thick, pearly cum dribbles down Piers’ thigh and pools around the curve of his buttocks when he’s peeled off Raihan and laid down on the couch to breathe. Raihan makes note of all the bruises and marks that mar the lean muscle of Piers’ body, of the ruined makeup and trembling nerves, and he swells with the pride of a peacock.

“You okay?” Raihan asks when Piers’ breathing evens out, and his eyes were no longer glassy.

“Mmf.” He was still addled, but Piers sits himself up to fall back into Raihan’s lap. Raihan runs his fingers through tangled, sweat-soaked hair and lets the other lay like that for a while longer.

“Can I get you water?”

“Mm. Yeah.” Piers moves just enough to free Raihan and waits patiently for the offered drink, which he takes greedily, much to his own surprise. The bottled water is emptied in record time.

Raihan offers a towel and a blanket, pulling Piers back into his lap and cradling him intimately, naturally, without judgement. “Why were you at the fight club?” He asks.

“Thrills.” Piers mouths the lip of the bottle.

“That’s worrying,” Raihan states, but his voice is soft and even. “Can’t you find something else to scratch that itch?”

Piers snorts back a laugh and tilts his head up to look at Raihan. “Sure. Next time I’ll just come here.”


End file.
